The Likelihood of Stupid
by Mary le Bow
Summary: Maggie and Michonne have an unusual theory about men. Carol puts it to the test.
1. Chapter 1

_So, this happened during the brief time of peace before the Governor hit the fan._

* * *

"Seriously, it was so stupid, I broke an egg on his head for saying it." Maggie laughed.

Michonne never laughed, but she did smile and shake her head. "You know, the more attracted to you a man is, the more likely he is to say something stupid."

They weren't much help with the cooking, but they made it a lot less boring. Carol spoke up."I thought men just said stupid things whenever."

"Well, they do," Maggie said, "but-"

She looked at Michonne, who explained, "It's on a sliding scale. Not attracted, not stupid. Moderately attracted, moderately stupid. Really attracted-"

Maggie dropped her jaw, bugged out her eyes—How did she do that? Carol wondered—and said, "_Duhhh_..."

"Exactly." Michonne nodded.

"Come on." Carol shook her head. "They can't be that transparent."

"No?" Maggie exchanged a look with Michonne. "Are you as sure as I am?"

"Yes," Michonne said. "Would you care to bet on it, Carol?"

Carol had begun to doubt the wisdom of disagreeing with them. They were prettier and bolder than she had ever been, and they had more experience with this sort of thing. "Well, I don't know."

"Do you know who's attracted to you and who isn't?"

"Michonne, I may not have it down to a science, but I'm not blind."

"Your method took a year, though," Maggie said. "Ours will give the same results in five minutes. If we're wrong, we'll do the dishes for a week."

Carol stopped thinking it over. "You're on. How do we do this?"

"Just follow our lead." Michonne picked up a stack of plates, Maggie got the stew pot, and they swept into the main room where the others had gathered for dinner.

Carol shrugged and followed them.

There was dishing up and grace-saying and chair adjusting. Carol said not a word, waiting to see how Maggie and Michonne would get the men to make non-stupid, moderately stupid, or ludicrously stupid remarks.

She almost missed it.

Maggie simply said, "We need opinions, you guys. We were talking about whether Carol should keep her hair short, or let it grow out."

"Look at my hair," Glenn laughed, "and tell me if I should be giving advice."

Carol judged that not especially stupid.

Rick and Merle said nothing, which seemed rather smart.

Hershel, in his serious way, put down his fork, gazed at Carol's head, and stated, "Since you asked, in my humble opinion, long hair would look nice on you."

Not stupid.

"That's what I think," Maggie agreed. "You said it was curly when you wore it long, didn't you, Carol?"

"Um—yeah. Yeah, it was." Great, Carol. What does it mean if _you_ say stupid things?

"Long curly hair," Maggie said. "That would be beautiful on you. What do you think, Daryl?"

"Uhh..." Daryl looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Umm..."

Michonne dropped her fork and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Carol kicked her. "Michonne's also considering making a change. Jerry curls, was it?"

"I can't believe this," Glenn said. "It's the zombie apocalypse, and you guys are seriously considering makeovers?"

Maggie played along perfectly. "Daddy, what do you think?"

"Again, this is my humble opinion. I am partial to long hair, therefore I like it the way it is."

"I'm not in this," Rick said. It was moderately stupid, but wise.

"Merle?" Carol smiled innocently at him. "What do you think of Michonne's hair?"

Merle froze, spoon halfway to his plate. He gawped like a wide-mouth bass. "Uhh... Umm... What was the question?"

Carol interrupted with what she hoped sounded like a violent coughing episode, during which Michonne thumped her on the back a lot harder than was necessary.

"You okay, Carol?" Maggie asked sweetly.

"Fine." Red-faced, lips pressed together, Carol struggled to control herself. "Something went down the wrong way."

Michonne glared at her. "It sure as hell did."


	2. Chapter 2

_This started out to be a one-shot, but no. There's too much potential for more stupid things to be said and done. Thanks for the great reviews!_

* * *

Merle's cheeks turned a beautiful sunset red. He leaped up, sending his chair skidding and stew sloshing. "Michonne! Hair! Pretty!" he yelled.

Rick pinched his temples, another headache coming on. Carl brayed laughter, which was a bad idea, as the water he had been trying to drink dribbled from his nose. Daryl facepalmed. Even Glenn was speechless.

Carol fled. She barely made it to the kitchen before sinking to her knees, laughing so hard her face hurt.

As she was trying—and utterly failing—to pull herself together, Maggie and Michonne stormed in.

"Well, that's frickin great!" Maggie exclaimed. "Now what?"

"He's dreaming," Michonne muttered.

"Carol, this is all your fault!" Maggie ranted. "If you'd taken our word for it instead of making us prove it, this wouldn't have happened! And what made you drag Michonne into it? What are we going to do?"

"He is _so_ dreaming," Michonne muttered.

Giggling, Carol wiped tears from her face. "I don't know! I'll think of something while you two wash the dishes."

"And why are we washing the dishes?" Maggie demanded. "Our theory is right. We won the bet."

"The bet was, if you were wrong, you lost," Carol reminded her. "Now, honestly, did either of you see that coming? So you're wrong."

"No, we weren't. We said the more attracted to you a man is, the more likely he is to say something stupid. Nobody mentioned anything about finding out Merle's stupid over Michonne."

"Oh, he is so dreaming," Michonne muttered.

"Will you please stop saying that?"

"No, because he's dreaming."

"If you'll wash the dishes, I'll tell you how to get rid of him," Carol suggested.

Michonne lifted her head, eyes gleaming. "Behead him with my katana?"

"That can be Plan B," Carol said hastily. "My idea's less messy."

"Where's the hot water?"


	3. Chapter 3

_This silly thing that I started to write for my own amusement, has turned into a multi-chapter monster that amuses...well, you, since you wouldn't have read this far if it didn't. This time, Carol gets out of more scut work, and a NSFW mental image pops up. The rating is changed because the Dixon brothers have lines. _

_Thanks for the reviews!_

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Daryl demanded. "What makes you think she'd even look at you?"

A prison yard after dinner was the ideal place for a smoke. Merle wished he had one. He didn't, though, and might never again, so he was irritable. "Well, who am I supposed to get with? Beth's a kid, Lori's dead, everybody knows Carol's hands-off, and I ain't messing with Short Round's girl. Dude killed a walker duck-taped to a chair!"

Daryl's brow wrinkled. "Who the hell duck-taped a walker to a chair?"

"Not the walker, asshole, Short Round!"

"Oh."

"Honest mistake. Somebody might've. Them Woodbury people are batshit."

Daryl stared into the woods. Nobody was there, undead or alive. "What do you mean, 'everybody knows Carol's hands-off'?"

Merle chuckled. "If you stripped naked and wrote her name all over yourself with a magic marker, it would only be a little more obvious."

To his horror, Daryl started to imagine how that would play out. "I don't think that would work, Merle."

Merle grimaced in disgust. "You really are fuckin clueless."

"Says the man who just got done humiliating himself in front of the whole group."

* * *

"Call it old-school," Carol said, "but the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Maggie pulled a clean plate from the sink and passed it to Michonne, who reluctantly wiped it dry.

"I thought it was through sex," Maggie said.

"_Dreaming_," Michonne muttered.

"As I was saying," Carol continued, "what you have to do is, be such a terrible cook that it puts him off you."

"Devious." Maggie grinned. "I like it."

"So this means I have to cook, too?" Michonne said. It wasn't a question. "I can't cook! I used to have six takeout places on speed dial."

"Tomorrow's dinner is your best chance," Carol decided, oblivious to the objection. "I'll help you mess it up big-time."

"What are we having?"

"Whatever Daryl catches."

"Carol-" Maggie hesitated. "Do you actually have any idea how to manage a guy, or are you making this up as you go along?"

"The last guy who was attracted to me, didn't make a move because he mistook me for a lesbian," Carol admitted. "I have no idea."

"It's the short hair, isn't it?" Michonne asked.

"What the hell is wrong with my hair? I like it this way. It's easy to take care of." She should have stopped there, but didn't. "You're the one with impractical hair. How you ever maintained your beauty regimen, living in the woods, is beyond me."

Maggie stopped working. "That's a good point, Michonne. How did you do it? Got any tips for us? We want Merle to call our hair pretty, too."

"Shut up."


	4. Chapter 4

_Yeah, this really happens. Enjoy, but maybe don't eat at the same time._

* * *

"Carol, can you cook this for dinner?" Daryl dumped a burlap sack on the kitchen table.

"I don't know," Carol said, coming over to see what he had brought. "What is it?"

"Rattlesnake."

Carol yanked her hands away from the bag. "A snake? You want me to cook a _snake_?"

"It's good. Tastes like chicken." Daryl tried not to laugh.

"You know how many things supposedly taste like chicken? If you believe they do, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you. A _snake_?" Carol's face twisted into a mask of disgust. "Tell me you're playing with me."

The sack writhed.

"Oh, God!" Carol leaped inches off the floor, and landed clutching at Daryl's bicep. "Daryl, it's still alive!"

"No, it ain't. I gutted it, and skinned it, and everything."

"Everything except kill it, apparently." Still holding his arm, Carol darted behind him, peeking over his shoulder at the moving bag.

"They always wiggle around after they're dead. The head can bite you for a couple hours after you cut it off."

Daryl wondered if he should go on telling her this shit. It was creeping her out.

But if he shut up, she might get embarrassed about hanging on his arm and leaning on his shoulder. He should definitely go on talking.

"Bullhead'll do the same thing," he went on. "Jump right out of the pan if you don't cover it. Jesus, last winter you ate an owl. You saying you won't eat old Mr. Snake, perfectly good and tastes like chicken?"

Carol gulped heavily, dropped his arm, and rushed for the door, hand over mouth. Daryl thought she might be staggering a little.

The voice inside his head was Merle's. That was bad enough without the voice saying, "Little brother, I believe you overstated your case."

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl muttered, working the knot out of the sack and dumping the rattler's squirming naked meat on the table. "And I don't want to hear nothing out of you, neither," he told it.

He held the snake meat still with one hand, and pulled his buck knife out of the sheath with the other.

That was what Michonne saw when she pushed the door open, pointing over her shoulder and asking, "What's wrong with Carol? She—oh."

"It's a rattlesnake," Daryl said testily. "And yeah, it's still moving." He chopped a three-inch section off and moved it aside, then lined the knife up for another cut.

Michonne shrugged. "I've eaten worse. How do you cook it?"

"Like fried chicken." Carol was off puking somewhere, and it was his fault. He didn't feel like playing Snake Boss anymore.

"Okay. How do you cook fried chicken?"

Daryl stared at her in surprise. "Don't you know?"

Michonne folded her arms. "Sorry, I've been too busy chopping cotton and eating watermelon to find out. You gonna tell me or not?"

Daryl put down the knife. "Clearly I did something wrong, but damn if I know what."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Well, I thought everybody knew how to make fried chicken." He shrugged. "Ain't your fault if you don't, though. You take some lard, or shortening, or whatever you got, and melt it down in a big pan. And then you cut up your chicken, dip it in milk-"

"Uh, Daryl—not to interrupt, but you're starting to sound like the Food Channel. How do you know all this?"

"Who do you think did the cooking when I was a kid? If I hadn't learned how, we'd've starved."

"Does Carol know you can cook?"

"It never came up. Why?"

"Because-" Michonne wondered exactly how dense this guy was. Didn't he see the opportunity right in front of his face? She spelled it out for him. "Because _Carol_ cooks. And _you_ cook. So you and Carol could cook _together._"

Daryl's face went blank. His ears reddened like they were sunburned.

Then he rushed out, leaving Michonne with a chopped up rattlesnake and a half-finished recipe for what to do with it.

Wishing she had kept her big mouth shut until he had told her the whole thing, she went looking for the powdered milk and huge cans of shortening.


End file.
